#casefile monday

[avis-writeshq]

06 — untouchable

summary: “come on, come on, say that we’ll be together/”i’m caught up in you.” pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slow burn,  warnings: rated 16+ for two mentions of nakedness, short blood mention, brief mention of dead things, mostly canon compliant (s4 e23 ‘amplification’), wc: 4.3k a/n: thank you again to the lovely @astrophileous for beta-reading <3 good luck on your thesis babes MWAH SERIES MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

38 Hours Before the Phone Call – Monday, 8:42AM, BAU Office

Spencer arrives at the office with a stupidly giddy smile on his face. His cheeks are flushed as he grips a hot takeaway cup of coffee in his hands. He taps the cup idly with his fingers, bouncing on the heels of his feet as he steps out of the elevator unable to shake the smile off his face. It’s ridiculous and insane and borderline delusional but he knows it’s far from that. After all, he has a perfectly good reason as to why he is in such high spirits and that reason is you. After years of pining and psyching himself up (only to psych himself out) he managed to actually ask you out on a date. And, he reminds himself with a silly smile, he actually kissed you. And it wasn’t one of those platonic kisses, no, this was an actual kiss to the lips and he couldn’t be happier. 

He thinks back to the previous night, visualising the way your cheeks grew warm and the way your lips felt against his. His own cheeks flush at the thoughts and he remembers committing that version of you to memory. How on earth are you so beautiful? Even while sleep deprived with dark bags under your eyes or unruly hair, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. 

“Pretty boy,” Derek comments in a teasing sing-songy voice as Spencer takes a sip of his coffee, trying to appear nonchalant. “Ooh, I know that look.”

Spencer chokes a little, wiping his mouth with a tissue in his bag. “What look?”

“Someone got lucky last night,” Derek responds with a grin. “It must be the hair. I heard that long hair gets all the ladies nowadays.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Spencer is quick to deny, walking through the big glass doors of the office. 

“Who got lucky last night?” Emily asks, poking her head out of her little stall. Her eyes flit to Spencer and she grins. “Oh… I see how it is.”

“Nothing happened last night,” Spencer says adamantly, swiping a hand over his face. “It isn’t like that. Whatever we have is good. It doesn’t need to be–” He coughs quietly as blood rushes to his ears– “to be sexual. I like her. More than physically.”

Emily coos at his confession, twisting around her desk to ruffle his hair. “You’re such a gentleman, Reid.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” he says through a laugh, swatting Emily’s hands away. “Being a gentleman. Some women prefer it over the whole macho act.”

“Hey, I am plenty gentleman,” Derek says swiftly, holding a finger out. “And chicks dig the macho thing.”

*** 

14 Hours Before the Phone Call – Tuesday, 7:09AM, BAU Office

It was supposed to be a normal morning. It was supposed to be an average Tuesday with your average, run-of-the-mill serial killer with daddy issues but instead, JJ called the entire team in the early hours of the morning, saying to get to the BAU as quickly as possible. 

“Case must be local. JJ said not to bring a go-bag,” Spencer says as they enter the office. 

In moments they were met with a complete arsenal of military personnel, bustling around their desks and storming throughout the office. Others were answering and sending phone calls, demanding for processes to be sped up as Hotch speaks to a group of people in his own personal office, Rossi beside him.

“What’s the army doing here?” Derek asks, his brows furrowed.

“What the hell is going on?” Emily demands, eyeing the uniformed professionals as they splay casefiles across their desks. 

They all enter the conference room where JJ was waiting for them, along with a neatly dressed Asian woman with her hair tied up in a ponytail and out of her face. 

“Guys, this is Dr Linda Kimura, Chief of Special Pathogens at the CDC,” JJ introduces, filling up styrofoam cups with water and placing them around the round table. 

“Hello. I’m sorry to meet under these circumstances,” she says as she places pills on a shiny metal tray. 

Spencer frowns at that. “What circumstances?”

Hotch enters the room instantly, gripping a case file in his iron fist. “We need to get started.”

“Last night, twenty-five people checked into emergency rooms in and around Annapolis. They were all at the same park after 2PM yesterday. Within 10 hours, the first victim died. It’s now just past 7AM the next day, we have twelve people dead,” JJ explains as the rest of team look through the manilla files. 

“Lung failure and black lesions,” Derek murmurs thoughtfully. “Anthrax?”

Spencer flicks through the papers, scanning the tox screen. “Anthrax doesn’t kill this fast.”

“This strain does,” Kimura says, an edge of fear in her tone.

“What are we doing about potential mass targets– airports, malls, trains?” Emily asks, turning to Hotch who shakes his head. 

“There’s a media blackout.”

“We’re not telling the public?”

Derek looks over at Emily. “We’d have a mass exodus.”

“The psychology of group panic would cause more deaths than this last attack,” Rossi explains.

“Yeah, and if it does get out, whoever did this might go underground or destroy their samples,” Spencer says as he sifts through the papers. 

“Or if they wanted attention and didn’t get it, they might attack again. Doesn’t the public have the right know that?” 

“If there is another attack, there’s no way we’ll be able to keep it quiet,” Hotch says urgently. “Our best chance of protecting the public is by building a profile as quickly as we can.”

Spencer wets his bottom lip nervously, his thoughts drifting to you. You work indoors all day. You’ll be fine, you have to be. “What do we know about this strain?”

“The spores are weaponized,” Kimura explains, “reduced to a respiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs. Odourless and invisible.”

Rossi nods, almost as if he wasn’t surprised at all upon hearing the news. “A sophisticated strain. Only a scientist would know how to do that.”

“These lesions are doubling in size in a matter of hours,” Derek points out, gesturing to the less than positive crime photos in their files. 

“It’s not the lesions I’m worried about,” Kimura begins, taking an ultrasound scan of a patient’s lungs and presenting it to the team. “Its the lungs. We don’t know how to com2bat the toxins once they’re inside. And the reality is, we may lose them all.”

“The remaining survivors have been moved to a special wing at Walter Reed Hospital. Our offices will become a small command centre,” JJ tells them.

“We’ll be working with military scientists from Fort Detrick,” Hotch adds on.

“General Whitworth is coming here?” Rossi asks.

Hotch nods in the affirmative. “He’s in charge of sit containment and spore analysis. Determining what strain this is will help inform who’s responsible.”

“My team is in charge of treating all victims,” Kimura goes on to tell the team, looking at each person.

“Reid, go with Dr. Kimura to the hospital, interview the victims,” Hotch says, dishing out responsibilities. “Morgan and Prentiss, there’s a hazmat team that will accompany you to the crime scene. There’s Cipro. Everybody needs to take it before we go.”

Linda hands a small plastic container, each one having two round tablets resting inside. “We don’t know if it’s effective against this strain, but it’s something.”

Emily lets out a nervous breath as she toys with the rim of the container. “This… is really happening?

“We knew this could happen. We’ve done our homework. We’ve prepared for this. This is it,” Hotch says as reassuringly as possible before knocking his head back and taking the two Cipro tablets. 

“Cent’anni,” Rossi toasts, holding the little container out. “May you live one hundred years.”

*** 

Everyone rushes about, gathering files and resources before the head off to complete their allocated assignments. Regardless of how much is at stake in this certain situation, Spencer feels his heart spike with anxiety. It’s against protocol, sure, but shouldn’t he call you? Tell you to take a sick day and stay at home, or to just stay indoors the entire time you’re at work. Maybe if he’s lucky he could get you into witness protection. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Hotch says slowly, seemingly appearing out of thin air behind him. 

Spencer freezes, his hands pausing as they rummage through his bag in search of his cell. “I’m not.”

“You’re not thinking?” Hotch asks, raising an eyebrow. “I know what you want to do.”

“I can’t just– I can’t just keep her in the dark, Hotch,” Spencer insists, continuing to feel for his cell phone. “She could get infected and–” His mouth runs dry at the idea and he swallows thickly. “If I can protect her, then why shouldn’t I?

Aaron sighs, his forehead wrinkling as his eyebrows knit together. “I know you care about her and I know you’re worried, but she isn’t on this team anymore. If we all called home and used this information to give them the advantage that other people don’t have… is that really the right thing to do?”

“Don’t give me a moral dilemma, Hotch. This isn’t a hypothetical,” Spencer counters, finally finding the little device buried at the bottom of his satchel. “When I– when the incident with Tobias Hankel happened, she never gave up on me. She went out on a limb for me. I’m returning the favour.”

Hotch is quiet for a moment before finally, “What about the guilt?”

Spencer balks. “What?”

“If she is saved because of the information you gave her… can you imagine the guilt she would feel? She’s a selfless person, Spencer, and knowing her… well, you can guess what she would do,” Aaron says, glancing back to his office where Rossi is waving him over. “I’m sure you’ll make the right decision. Kimura is waiting for you.”

Hotch is gone before Spencer could say anything. He huffs quietly, guilty after hearing Hotch’s words. Even though he doesn’t want to admit it, he has to accept that his boss is right. The best way to keep you safe is by finding this UnSub before he could hurt any more people. He rubs at his eyes in frustration, stalking out of the BAU offices. Hopefully you’ll forgive him.

*** 

“Dr. Lawrence Nichols? Yeah, I read about him. He was highly respected doctor who studied anthrax prior to the attacks in 2001,” Spencer says as he gets into the passenger seat of Derek’s SUV. He rolls up the sleeves of his dark purple shirt, brushing some sweat from his forehead. “They think that he’s behind it?”

“There was a video of him at a conference with the with the National Defense Committee. He was paranoid after the Amerithrax attacks in 2001, proposing some crazy high budget to ‘protect the people of America’,” Derek explains. “He matches the profile exactly. Prentiss and Rossi are heading to his work. Apparently he got demoted into working with influenza.”

Spencer grimaces as he stares at the overgrowing rose bushes at the front of Dr. Nichols’s house, his nose scrunching up in distaste. Do people not hire gardeners anymore? He squeezes past a few bushes to follow Derek closer to the house, hissing when his hand gets caught on one of the thorns. He shakes his hand out, a scratch already blooming on the back of his hand with small droplets ot blood already emerging. 

He continues to walk into the house as Derek’s phone rings, entering the house through a glass sliding door. The whirring of the fan above him grabs his attention and he frowns. The fan is on but the door is open… someone must have left in a hurry. He takes another step forward, jolting when he hears the sound of glass being crushed under his feet. Shit.

“Reid?” Derek yells, and Spencer jumps. 

“Morgan, get– get back!” Spencer yells, slamming the sliding door shut so hard that the glass shakes. “Get back! Get out of here!”

Derek frowns, tugging at the handle. ‘What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

“No, don’t!”

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks again, tugging once more at the handle; Spencer is a lot stronger than he expected.

“What’s wrong?”

Spencer pushes his hair out of his face in frustration as he locks the door, turning back to his friend. “I’m sorry.”

It is in that moment that Derek’s eyes turn to the ground, his eyes widening in disbelief as he sees the white powder in the room leaking from a broken test tube with a bright yellow symbol for ‘biological hazard’. 

It feels like hours before Hotch and the military arrive at the house, along with an ambulance and a hazmat team. The stench of Dr. Nichols’s dead body lingers in the air even though the air-con is blasting and the air is circulating through the room. He doesn’t even want to think about the dead animals and test subjects in the cages, his stomach churning at the mere thought. From what he could tell, the doctor was dead three days ago, meaning that he couldn’t have been the one to infect those people at the park. His head is pounding and his throat itches and all of a sudden he can’t breathe. He tells himself to relax but how can he when he very well could die in here? He knows the statistics; only 55% of those who receive aggressive treatment survive. He doesn’t like those odds. 

“Hotch, I really messed up this time,” he says hoarsely into the phone, wiping the sweat off his upper lip.

“Reid, we need to get you out and to the hospital,” Hotch says firmly, and Spencer watches as he puts the call on speaker. 

“What– no, I’m staying right here,” Spencer insists, frowning. 

Derek interrupts swiftly, “No, you’re not, Reid.”

“I’m already exposed,” Spencer says, his voice straining as he turns back into Dr. Nichols’s makeshift lab. “It’s not gonna do me any good to stop working the case.”

General Whitworth grimaces in response. “He’s already infected. Now, if Nichols created the strain, he may have also created the cure.”

“My best chance is to stay here, see if there’s a cure, and try to figure out who killed Dr. Nichols,” Spencer insists as he searches through the lab for what seems like the millionth time. 

Test tubes, files, and text books litter the lab, a flurry of papers splayed across the floor. The sight of them remind him of the first time he met you when you had ran into him on his first official day at the BAU. You were a swirling rainstorm as you practically slammed your head against his chest, the paperwork you were carrying flying into the air as you toppled over like a house of cards. In that moment, Spencer could have sworn that you were untouchable. You were like a fire, burning brighter than the sun, and he would be damned if he ever made that flame flicker away. 

“Come on, Hotch, say something to him,” Derek tries again, worry laced in his tone.

Aaron hesitates as he considers his options before sighing. “He’s right. His best chase is inside. We’re gonna get a suit and mask in to you right away.”

“Don’t bother, it’s not going to do me any good. I’m already infected.” Spencer knows that if you were still part of the team that you would be scolding him about being so stubborn. Hell, you’re not even on the team anymore and you still scold him about it. 

As he continues to try and search for more clues and filtering the information he finds through to Derek, his thoughts continuously drift back to you. You and your blissfully unaware state. He thinks of the way you smile and the way you felt in his arms that day. He is sure that the universe is playing tricks with him because the one moment he finally has you, you’re ripped away from him. His mind wanders back to the way your eyes lit up and the way your lips felt against his and in that moment he’s begging. He’s begging whatever higher power there is that he is part of the 55% of people who survive an anthrax attack after treatment. 

“Hey, Reid,” Penelope’s voice echoes through the phone, sad and mopey. It’s unlike her, incredibly uncharacteristic and Spencer chokes out a quiet laugh. 

“Reid? Wow, no, uh… no witty Garcia greeting for me?” He asks, running his fingers through his damp sweaty hair. It’s disgusting and gross and he hates it because he knows that it’s a symptom of the disease. 

Penelope chuckles weakly from the other side of the line. “I can’t be my sparkly self when you are where you are.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that so instead he asks, “Garcia, do you think you can do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“I… I know I can’t call… I know I can’t call (Y/N) or my mother without, uh–” he coughs, wiping his face with the palm of his hand and feeling his clammy skin– “without alerting everyone.”

“What do you need?”

“I– uh– I need you to record a message. Two messages. One for my mother and the other for… for (Y/N). In case anything happens to me.” His voice cracks as he speaks, his hand trembling because oh God, this really could be the end. After everything he went through going to those Narcotics Anonymous meetings, getting clean, going to therapy… this is how it ends?

“Oh, nothing is gonna happen to you,” Garcia says, wholeheartedly believing it. “You’re gonna brilliantly find ut who did this and we’re gonna treat this strain.”

Spencer lets out a nervous breath. “I hope you’re right. But if you’re not, I just… I really want to make sure that they hear my voice. Both of them.”

“Okay. Just– just give me a second,” Penelope mumbles, clicking away on her keyboard. 

“Are you ready?”

“Ready.”

“This– um, it’s for my mum first…” He clears his throat, trying to keep his voice even. “Hi, mum. This is Spencer. I just– I just really want you to know that I love you, and– and I need you to know that I spend every day of my life proud to be your son.”

Penelope presses pause on that message, murmuring, “Okay. And– and for (Y/N)?”

“Is it on?” He asks quietly, coughing as the itchiness in his throat refuses to relent. “Hey, angel, it’s me, Spenc– Walter. It’s your Walter.” His voice catches in his throat as he speaks, tears slipping past his eyes as he tries to choke out the words. “If you’re getting this then something happened and I just wanted you to know that– that– that I love you. I didn’t get the chance to tell you that before but I do. I love you and I wish it didn’t turn out like this but I am– I am so glad that we had that moment.”

“Reid?”

Dr. Kimura enters the room through the sliding door, clad in a bright red hazmat suit. “Prep the victim for transfer.”

“I gotta go,” Spencer says quickly, hanging up the call and pocketing his phone. 

“Dr. Reid,” Kimura says, walking over to him.

“You look nice,” he says drily, staring at the uniform. It looks very similar to an astronaut costume and if he were in any other situation, he would have started to laugh.

Kimura chuckles quietly. “I haven’t been in this outfit for a while.”

“How… how are the patients doing?” Spencer manages to ask, and suddenly it feels as if all the air is kicked out of his lungs. His head throbs with each attempt he makes to take in a breath and sweat pools at the top of his lip. 

“Let’s worry about you.”

“I actually… I feel fine,” Spencer lies through gritted teeth, the muscles in his shoulders aching with each heave of his chest. 

Kimura nods, her concern palpable. “Okay, if you feel any pain, I can give you something.”

In an instant, the fear of losing all the progress he has made in the past year pools to his stomach and he shakes his head adamantly, ignoring the way the room spins. “No, I’d rather not take any pain medication.”

“We can at least make you feel more comfortable.”

“I am comfortable and I don’t want to take any narcotics!” Spencer says firmly, and he can see the realisation dawn in Kimura’s eyes. 

“Okay… tell me how I can help.”

“I think the cure for this strain is in here somewhere,” he says through heavy breaths, sucking in a mouthful of air with every sentence. 

It isn’t long before the hazmat team has Spencer in a decontamination tent, the smell of sterile plastic filling his nose. They’re hosing him down behind a clear plastic curtain, Derek standing in front of him. The feeling of the cold water splashing against his back is uncomfortable, and Spencer grimaces at the feeling of his clothes sticking to his skin. It’s gross and his work shirt is growing heavy from the waterweight, sagging down on his shoulders. The anthrax isn’t helping either. It’s too hot and too cold all at once, it’s too hard to breathe and it’s like his head weighs a million pounds. 

“Go help Hotch,” Spencer croaks out to Derek, shivering as they continue to spray water on his back and front.

“Hotch has plenty of people helping him,” Derek dismisses. 

Spencer shakes his head and regrets it immediately, his head starting to spin. “He needs you more than I do.”

“Reid, I’m gonna see you off to the hospital.”

“I’m about to get naked so that they can scrub me down. Is that something you really want to see?” Spencer deadpans.

Derek grimaces before finally saying, “What if (Y/N) were here? Would you tell her to go?”

“(Y/N)  wouldn’t mind seeing me naked.”

Derek’s eyebrows shoot upwards at Spencer’s less than innocent words, immediately turning away. “We are having a conversation about this later. Take good care of him, please.”

The ambulance is stuffy and cramped, and the scrubs that he has to wear is itchy and uncomfortable. They’re menial thoughts that don’t even matter considering the severity of the situation, and Spencer wheezes out of a cough; a reminder that he might not even live to see the next day. The nasal cannula that is attached to Spencer’s nose isn’t doing much to assist him to breathe, and he coughs again. 

“How are you feeling, Dr. Reid?” Kimura asks as she checks his vitals. 

“My throats a little dry, but other than that I feel– I flee– feel…” He blanks. His mind knows the words but they get stuck on his tongue and he panics. It can’t end like this. He refuses for it to end like this. “Flee– fleel– I–”

Kimura nods in understanding, a sense of urgency behind her words. “Okay. Okay, you’re doing okay. Driver, faster!”

“Call–” Spencer tries again, the words spinning in his head. “Pelen– Penel… low… len…”

Call Penelope, he tries to say, the lights in the ambulance growing brighter and brighter. She needs to give (Y/N) the message, she needs to… she needs to…

All he sees is white.

*** 

The first thing Spencer notices when he regains consciousness is the smell of lavender and oranges overpowering the sterile scent of antibacterial wipes. It’s comforting and familiar and he wracks his brain as he tries to remember where he remembers it from. He doesn’t remember much; only getting into the ambulance and Kimura asking him questions. He shuffles around in his hospital bed, stretching his aching muscles. He forces his eyes open little by little, and he quints at the woman at the end of his hospital bed. 

“(Y/N)?”

“You ass,” you respond tearfully, your voice cracking as you swat him lightly on the arm. “You refused treatment?”

He smiles a little, sitting up on the bed. “Hey, angel.”

“Don’t ‘hey angel’ me,” you sniffle, taking hold of his hand and stroking his palm with your thumb. “You scared me.”

Spencer hums softly in acknowledgement, squeezing your hand back. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Dr. Kimura said that you should be free to go in a couple of days but you need rest afterwards,” you tell him, brushing a strand of his hair behind his ear. “You owe me a date.”

“I do,” he murmurs, his cheeks flushed and a giddy smile on his face despite where he is. He looks at you, you and his oversized CalTech hoodie. The hoodie in itself is ugly; a muted grey with a half-assed logo slapped to the front and Spencer has hated it ever since he bought it with what little funds he had back in college. Yet, for some reason, he doesn’t hate it so much when you wear it. “You look beautiful.”

You roll your pretty eyes at him, moving your chair closer to him. “Liar.”

“Never,” he whispers. “Never to you.”

You smile at him again, bringing your lips to the back of his hand. “You told me you loved me. Is that true, too?”

“Love,” he corrects you quietly, “and I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

Heat rushes up your neck at his words and you beam at him, kissing his cheeks. “I love you.”

He reaches a hand out to hold the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the line from your ear to your jaw. “I love you,” he says into the space between you, before kissing you again. 

← previous part || next part →

full masterlist

reblogs are always appreciated !!

[fine-nephrit]

🥏 Where to find good XF fanfics

👽 On Tumblr

@lilydalexf has an encyclopedic knowledge of fics and continues to be an invaluable resource. You'll find a boatload of themed fic lists, individual rec posts and helpful answers to anon asks.

@txf-fic-chicks-blog seven years of almost daily recs, with well-written blurbs and a lot of fun, run by @kateyes224 and @piecesofscully. Look out for their themed days: "Casefile Monday", "Tumblr Tuesday", "Editor's Pick Wednesday", "Post-Ep/Missing Scene Thursday", "Novel Length Friday", "Smut Sunday", and the very cool "Because You Watched"

@msrlibrary a well-tagged library of MSR fics; each entry includes a short excerpt and a nicely chosen image from the show.

@201daysofxfiles a rewatch blog by fandom veteran @wendelah. Each episode in season 1-7 is paired with its own fic rec post.

@enigmaticxbee an aesthetically pleasing and neatly organized rewatch blog that is packed with great content, including excellent fic rec lists categorized by season, story type, trope, and more. Each episode guide sometimes features related fic recs.

@thatfragilecapricorn30 posts one fic rec every Friday, accompanied by a nice writeup.

@randomfoggytiger curates many fic rec lists sorted by often fun and creative categories.

@cecilysass has a google doc titled "fics I love", which is a fantastic fic list categorized by story type, complete with thoughtful blurbs. She's also shared two episode-related fic rec lists on Tumblr: here and here.

@pookie-mulder writes a monthly fic journal with good recs.

**self-promo plug** I post fic recs on my Tumblr blog @fine-nephrit under #nephrit's fic rec. Plus, I reblog others' fic recs that I come across!

👽 Rec Communities

XF Book Club: the best thing ever, an absolute gem that deserves to be preserved for posterity. During its run, 270 fics were recced and discussed in depth here. The community's intelligent and insightful comments on this blog are sometimes even more enjoyable to read than the fics themselves.

The Fic Filter (xf tag): well-curated selections with short blurbs.

Multifandom Het Recs (xf tag): a major rec site's xf section that offers nice "why this must be read" writeups. @het-reccers

Crack Van (xf tag): another major rec site with a big xf section, featuring endless recs and blurbs

Fancake (xf tag): another major rec community's xf section boasting an extensive thematic tagging system

👽 Personal Blogs

Emily Shore aka Naraht: meta essays, fanvid recs, fic recs—great stuff aplenty

Bad for the Fish aka Scarlet Baldy: fantastic fic list paired with highly enjoyable reviews and analyses of the fics she's read. @badforthefish

Ramblings of a Mind Untamed: reviews of a dozen or so classic fics

xxSKSxx XF Fanfic Recs: still active in 2024! @xxsksxxx

X-Libris: more of a fic library, this is the best place to download nicely-formatted ebooks of pre-AO3 oldies. What I love most is the incredibly detailed and extensive tagging system.

👽 Individual Rec Lists with good writeup

Character Manifesto - Dana Scully: a character analysis and 10 Scully-centric fic recs, categorized by "best of .." selections. Amazing format and choices!

Character Manifesto - Fox Mulder: same format as above for Spooky

bachlava's awesome fic rec essays, covering classic fics and slash fics

ShipRecced blog's classic MSR fics and newer MSR fics recs

luminary's 16-fic rec post

RivkaT recs fics and writers @rivkat

Anna Otto's favorite stories

Syntax6's rec list on her site, great rec list on Tumblr and FTF rec list @syntax6

👽 90s Old School Rec Sites

The Basement Office - Musea: a treasure trove of extensive fic lists with lovely written blurbs, recced by a group of talented writers from back in the day

The Other Side - Fanfic Recs from Beyond the Grave: a large collection of 'scary' or 'spooky' story recs with nice blurbs. Beautiful web design.

the Rookery - Favorite Authors: nice commentary on a list of classic fic writers

X-Files Fanfiction 101: an intro guide to fic categories and what to read for each

The Primal Screamers: a fun site run by a mailing list that hosts fic recs with blurbs, and a 'Coffee Talk' section full of delightful discussions of canon

Idealists Haven - Elemental Fanfic Archive: an archive with rec blurbs

Chronicle X: a large, well-organized archive with blurbs, plus a 'Can We Talk' discussion section of novel-length fics, plus a total of 46 author interviews. Simply incredible!

👽 Special Mention

The X-Files Lost and Found: a fic finder message board that is miraculously still very active today—How wonderful! Its FAQ page hosts a huge collection of well-categorized themed fic lists (not recs), including "Classics (or, Your Fanfic Education is Not Complete Until You've Read ...)".

Where do you find your next read? What did I miss? Reblog and share your favorites!

[revasserium]

nxx #2 - the best part

artem.

you are the best part of a monday morning, the soft click of heels, the whish of automatic doors, the light tap-tap of fingers on tablets. he knows just where you’ll be, a soft frown caught between your eyebrows; sometimes, when during meetings, or even just when he’s passing by your desk, he wishes he could reach over to smooth it over with a fingertip. when it’s late enough, he thinks about trying. other times, when it’s late-late enough — he actually does. and he’d sink into your startled gasp of laughter, the way you go slightly cross-eyed as he leans back to grin, shaking his head, “don’t frown like that… your face will get stuck.” and when you crinkle your nose and swat at his hand, your cheeks going the kind of pink that makes him think of every single sunset he’s yet to see, every single sunrise that’s still to kiss the sky, he has to stop himself from letting his fingers graze down to trace against your skin. “no it won’t…” but there’s no real conviction in your voice, and there’s something brilliant in the secret smile you share. “you’re right,” he admits, “but… i’m not sure i like it when i think about how often you frown in my presence.” he savors in the way you blush then, the way you press your lips, the startled and then resolute way you square your shoulders before saying, “then… i guess you should try to make me smile more often.” artem blinks for a second, and then — “sure… it’s a promise then. but... you’ll have to stay with me long enough for me to see it through.”

luke.

you are the best part of a september afternoon, his cardigan slipping off your shoulder as you pour through your work files. and even though he still feels some kinda way about you doing work while you’re with him — well — he looks down at his own pile of casefiles — he can’t really blame you anyway. birds of a feather and all. he grins as he glances up, only to find you smiling. “what?” you blush, looking away, “nothing — just… this is nice.” it’s his turn to blush now. and yes, he thinks, because this is what he loves — just this, just the moments in between, the quiet breaths and the unsaid words and the afternoon filtering through the autumn leaves, the coffee still lukewarm on the table between you. he takes a breath and looks at you, really looks at you — because he can’t remember a time when he didn’t know you, when he hasn’t loved you just like this — with the pure, simplicity of a september afternoon, as certain as tides, as simple as a child’s knowledge that this is the person he never wants to leave his life. “yeah,” he says, grinning broadly at you as he reaches over tug a strand of your hair between his fingers, “everything is nice when it’s with you.”

vyn.

you are the best part of every winter day, the distant, slanted light working its strange magic over the world, casting everything in its ethereal glow. “there’s just something about the winter sun,” you’d said one day, peering over towards the far horizon, shielding your eyes from the light, pausing as the pair of you walk hand in hand towards the corner store for something or other (vyn’s long since forgotten the minutia for the memory of you). he’d raised his eyebrows and cocked his head, waiting for you to continue, and after a second, you had, turning back towards him with frost-nipped cheeks and brilliant, snow-drop eyes, laughing as you wave at the casual, neighborhood scenery around you, “it makes everything look more beautiful, doesn’t it? like… it’s a dream, or some of those old fashioned picture filters…” to which vyn had smiled and gripped your hand just a bit tighter, “yes… i’ve always thought that winter was the most nostalgic season. it makes you miss a time that hasn’t yet come to pass. perhaps… a future with someone you love, no?” and he’d watched, fascinated, enraptured as you’d blushed and turned away, tugging him behind you, mumbling something about being unfair. and he thinks that if anyone were ever unfair — it’d undoubtedly be you.

marius.

you are the best part of a friday night — your laughter like the city lights, your smile, a million moons in a million distant skies, the shape of you dozing beside him in the back of limo, your cheeks kissed pink from all the wine. he thinks he could cup forever in the palm of his hands like this, thread your fingers with his and suddenly, he’s more sober than he’s ever been in his entire life, watching you nodding off next to him. he thinks he can see the next twenty, thirty, shit forty years of his life flashing outside along with the neon-night-skies, the way your lashes cast shadows along the high of your cheeks, the way your earrings rest against the bend of your neck. “mm… marius?” you ask, blinking sleepily up at him as the limo pulls to a quiet halt at a stoplight, your perfume making an absolute mess of his mind, and he has to clear his throat to hide just how many butterflies had exploded in the pit of his stomach at the sound of your sleep-sweetened voice — “i-it’s late… you can keep sleeping if you want… i’ll wake you up when we get home.” to which you’d leaned up and pressed as soft kiss to his cheek and it takes everything inside him not to pull you to him, press you into the limo seat and kiss you till the entire world melts away, “thanks… you should sleep too,” you say, nuzzling into the side of his neck, your breath chasing shivers up and down his spine. “y-yeah… i — i’ll try."

[randomfoggytiger]

Do you have a list of comfort fics? Not them comforting each other but for when you're feeling wrecked and you just need something lovely to make it better?

randomfoggytiger's Comfort Fics

I'm not joking: I've reread more fics than I'll ever read new ones. My usual routine is to pop open Google docs, select an author, and mow down their list.

These three pieces were the ones that started it all; but I forgot to include @seek-its-opposite's photosensitivity. A+s, all of 'em.

Authors that I can't single out comfort fics from and can't tag because Tumblr is restricting my tag options: @baronessblixen, @settle-down-frohike, @onpaperfirst, @markwatneyandenesemble, Lapsed_Scholar, Apostrophic, @ghostbustermelanieking, @o6666666, touchstoneaf, @welsharcher, @scenes-in-between, @mldrgrl, @spooky-nerd, @melforbes, etc.

**Note**: Will ghost edit later~

PART I

Bittersweet Comfort Fics

misslucyjane's Scully seeks insomnia advice from Mulder, and Mulder dies, then lovingly watches Scully live the rest of her life

Kipler's cancer arc set casefile involving WWII vets and letters

melforbes's cancer arc Mulder takes his new bride to the sea for her last spring, and Pre-IWTB Mulder and Scully finally have a home

MldrItsMe's AU Redux II Scully is REALLY suffering, and Sein und Zeit Mulder's suicidal confessions

@discordantwords's Mulder and Scully are almost killed by the Fiji mermaid

mixiz877's Mulder and Scully fight off a gryphon

@fbismostunwanted1158's Scully is beaten down ala Stella Gibson in The Fall

Joyce's S5 AU Mulder is killed, comes back to life to save Scully, and Mulder dies but stays as Scully's partner solving cases with her (Part 1, Part 2, and-- my favorite of the three-- its Halloween sequel)

@teethnbone's post Travelers fic with Mulder and Scully

@sarie-fairy's AU Tithonus love confession, Post Milagro Scully realizing what it feels like to be Mulder, and Post The Unnatural Scully is bleeding out on a failed Sasquatch hunt

@sigritandtheelves's Post Monday Scully remembers Mulder's death

whatliesabove's Post Milagro Scully stays dead (or does she?)

ChaneenW's Pre-IVF arc Mulder is shot into a parallel timeline, reliving the Small Potatoes adventure with Scully

dee_ayy's post Amor Fati recovery fic (with baseball)

@bohoartist's Sein und Zeit through Scully's eyes, and Post Closure Scully rescues a photo of baby Mulder

Lolabeegood's AU where S8 Mulder is returned with false memories (would also recommend Lolabee's IWTB era fics, btw.)

@dreamingofscully's AU S9 Skinner entices Mulder back into profiling... and it doesn't end well

@television-overload's Pre-IWTB Mulder surprises Scully with a baseball field (and his old self again)

@queeenpersephone's AU where IWTB Scully stuck it out with Mulder

@danascullysjournal's Post IWTB bonding fic between a discouraged Mulder and uplifting Scully

@kateyes224's Mulder and Scully content in their UH, and Mulder sells the UH, and Scully buys it

@realmofextremepossibility's Breakup Mulder waiting for Scully's return Part I and Part II.

vulcanscully's Post Breakup Scully stops hearing from Mulder and assumes the worst

enigmaticdr's AU post IWTB Scully thinks she has cancer again (she's pregnant), Breakup Mulder is defeated at their anniversary dinner, AU where Revival Scully gets cancer, and The Revival baby laughs for the first time

prufrockslove's AU Mulder is a Welsh prince, Scully is his betrothed bride, and lots of Prince John high court drama ensues (part I of a sweeping, interconnecting AU series)

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Title: Perfect

Pairing: Jim Gordon/Reader

Rating: PG-13 (language)

Summary: You should've known that Valentine's Day with Jim would be perfect, even when you hated Valentine's Day.

Notes: Happy Valentine's Day!

Warning: fluff and cheese incoming.

You had never been a fan of Valentine’s Day. Even when you were in a relationship, it had always seemed to you like a day that only benefitted corporate America. Not that you hated the excuse to be romantic with Jim, but the point was that you never really needed an excuse. The two of you were romantic with each other all the time. Part of you wanted to insist that you skip any silly Valentine’s Day celebration or grand gestures and just spend it the way you would spend any other Wednesday, but the look on his face when he proudly proclaimed over breakfast a few days before that he had thought of the perfect Valentine's Day activity kept your cynicism at bay. He seemed so excited. Who were you to yuck his yum?

“So, listen, what I was thinking was that we could recreate our first date,” he said as the two of you got into his car to head home on Monday.

You furrowed your brows. “Uh… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Yeah, I thought it’d be cute and romantic.”

Your brows shot up over your eyes, but apparently he hadn’t noticed.

“We can go to that little Italian place, and then go for a walk in the theatre district,” he said, and your expression returned to one of bewilderment. “Maybe even stop at that same little street cart off of Monroe and get some —”

“That was our second date,” you said.

He narrowed his eyes, looking over at you as you came to a stop at a red light. “Wait a minute, are you saying you count what was supposed to be our first date as our actual first date?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“Because we got called into a murder scene before we even got to the restaurant and then spent practically the entire night going over casefiles of similar MOs and waiting on DNA evidence,” he replied.

“Yeah, so? It was still our first date,” you insisted.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “I say it stopped being our first date the moment we were interrupted and had to go to work.”

“Are you kidding? We got to spend the whole night together,” you argued with a smile.

“The whole night looking over other murders instead of eating at a restaurant. Yeah, some date. I didn’t even kiss you at the end of the night.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have kissed at the end of the first date anyway,” you teased.

“Oh really? Cause I seem to remember your hands wandering a bit on our do-over date,” he teased.

“I told you, you had dust on your pants,” you answered, trying to contain a smile.

“Oh, that’s right,” he conceded. “Anyway, that night was our first date. Not the one where we didn’t even get to go to dinner.”

“We did have dinner, it was just shitty takeout at the precinct. We still talked, we still got to know each other more. And we danced to the copy machine!”

Jim smiled at the memory.

“Why would you wanna erase that? That was romantic and cute in it’s own special way. I mean, okay, I agree, the murder was a bit too much blood for a first date —”

“You think?”

“Okay, but I don’t focus on the moments that weren’t ideal first date scenarios. I think about the conversation we had while we were waiting on the DNA to come back, and the shitty take out while we were going through old case files looking for similar MOs, and dancing to the copy machine! Seriously, who can say that they’ve danced to a copy machine?”

“Probably not that many people,” he mumbled, sighing after a moment, but apparently refusing to concede. “I still don’t count that as our first date. At best it was maybe a dress rehearsal.”

“A dress rehearsal?”

“Yeah, dress rehearsal,” he answered, the corner of his lips curling after a moment. “You wore that little black dress with the feather prints on it that buttoned down the front.”

You smiled to yourself as you remembered the look on his face when he first saw you in that dress. “I like that dress.”

“Me too,” he replied, pulling up to the curb in front of your building. “Hugged you in all the right places and showed just enough to make me want to undo all those buttons. It drove me crazy.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah.”

“I mean, I knew you liked it, I didn’t realize you liked it that much,” you said, getting out of the car and waiting for him to reach you on the sidewalk before you walked into the building together.

“I still think about you in it sometimes,” he murmured in your ear while the two of you made your way to the elevator.

Your cheeks warmed and you bit down on your bottom lip, slinking your arm around his. “You looked really good that night too. You should roll up your sleeves to your elbows more often.”

Smirking to himself, he followed you into the elevator and pushed the button for your floor, turning to you when the doors closed. “So you concede that was a dress rehearsal and not actually our first date?”

“No way,” you answered, smiling when he groaned.

“You’re telling me you had more fun that night than on our real first date?”

“Second date.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “You had more fun that night than on our next date?”

“Well played,” you replied. “It’s not about whether I had more fun, it’s that it was so memorable that I don’t want to let it go just because there was a little blood and a couple dead bodies.”

“A little blood?”

“Okay, a lot of blood. That night is still special to me,” you answered. “Even though it wasn’t what we planned, even though it wasn’t ideal, it’s ours.”

He sighed softly, but it wasn’t until the elevator stopped on your floor and you were standing at your front door, waiting for him to unlock it that he turned to you, opening the door to let you in and said, “Okay, you’ve convinced me.”

“Yes,” you whispered, grinning as he locked the door behind you both.

“That doesn't exactly help me though,” he said, tossing his keys on the foyer table. “I can’t recreate that night.”

“You don’t have to, we can recreate our second date like you wanted —”

“Yeah, but the whole romance of it was that I was recreating our first date,” he answered.

“Oh Jim, I don't care about that. I don’t care what we do as long as we’re together. I don’t need anything fancy, I just need you.” You took off your gun and badge and set them on the counter.

“I know, but we didn’t get to spend Valentine’s Day together last year,” he said.

“That’s cause Ramirez got the flu,” you replied.

“Well, still, it’s gonna be our first Valentine’s Day that we spend together. I just want it to be special.”

Smiling at him, you wrapped your arms around his trunk, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him. “It’ll be special no matter what we do because I’ll be spending the night with you.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” he replied, seeming to let it go.

Jim had arranged the schedule so that he would be off while you only worked one shift on Valentine’s Day, which was nice enough for you. You didn’t need anything extravagant to make the day special and you certainly didn’t need the entire day. Still, Jim would not be deterred; from the moment you got home at five thirty, you were greeted with white and red rose petals that led from the front door down the hallway. Instinctively, you smiled at the gesture, but when you looked up to find Jim, he was nowhere to be seen.

The cop in you kicked in for a moment after you called out to him, but got no answer. That was unusual — even when Jim was busy doing something, he would always answer when you called out to him after getting home, and you always did the same. There was a faint sound coming from the bedroom and you instinctively pulled out your gun, following the rose petals down the hall.

“Jim?”

Still no answer, but the noise was a bit clearer as you neared the bedroom. Music. And it was a song you vaguely recognized, but still couldn’t quite make out. Using your foot, you pushed the bedroom door open and scanned the room. Everything looked normal except for the music, which you now realized was coming from the adjoining bathroom. The lights were dimmed, but you didn’t see or hear any sign of Jim, and you started to think the worst. Raising your gun, you slowly made your way toward the bathroom, using your foot again to push the door open.

“Whoa!” Jim exclaimed, instinctively putting his hands up. “Hi. Can you put the gun down please, sweetheart?”

With a sigh, you lowered your weapon. “You didn’t answer, you scared the tits off me. I started to think something terrible happened.”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to surprise you,” he said, coming up to you. It was at that point that you realized he was wearing a bathrobe. Looking around, you saw tea candles all around the bathroom, a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne chilling inside it and a bowl of strawberries. The tub was filled with a steaming bubble bath, and the music that played made you grin to yourself as you began to recognize it.

“Wow,” you said.

“Yeah, wow. Let’s put the gun down,” he suggested, gently taking the gun from your hand and setting it on the vanity. “And let’s get your clothes off.”

“That song…” you said as he unbuttoned your flannel shirt.

Jim smirked at you. “It’s the one that was on the radio when we were coming back from the docks the day we met.”

“I can’t believe you even remember that,” you said.

He pushed your shirt over your shoulders, kissing one while he lowered your bra strap off the other. “Of course I remember that,” he whispered against your skin, one hand going to unhook your bra to pull that off as well. “I remember everything that has anything at all to do with you.”

You shivered as he lay kisses along the side of your neck, his hands busying themselves with unbuckling your belt before he unbuttoned and unzipped your pants. He pushed them down, waiting for you to toe out of your shoes before he helped you step out of your khakis and looked you over.

“Christ, you are so beautiful,” he purred, pulling you against him.

You hummed at the feel of his soft robe against your nipples, your hands moving to the sash on the front, untying it and pushing it open to expose his bare chest.

“This is really beautiful,” you said as you pushed the robe off of him.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties. “I may have ordered dinner from that shitty take out place.”

“The one from our first date?” you teased, taking your underwear off the rest of the way before doing the same with your socks.

“Don’t start that again,” he replied, gesturing to the tub with his head. “Go on, hop in.”

The two of you sat on opposite ends of the tub, your legs intertwined while he reached for a champagne flute, handing it to you before he picked up the bottle from the ice bucket.

“How was first shift?” he asked playfully.

“Not bad. Actually pretty quiet, criminals must’ve thought to take the day off or something.”

“There’s a first,” he mumbled, pouring some of the bubbly drink into your glass before he poured himself one. Putting the bottle back into the ice bucket, he toasted with you. “Well, we have the rest of the night all to ourselves.”

“What’s on the docket?” you asked, lifting yourself a bit to pick out a strawberry for you to eat.

“I thought we could relax in the bath for a bit, and then have dinner while we watch a movie. You choose whichever film you want.”

“You’re gonna hate me,” you said with a wince, taking a bite of your strawberry.

“I could never hate you,” he replied.

“I kinda wanna binge-watch Dance Moms.”

He nodded and lowered his eyes. “Okay, I hate you a little bit.”

You laughed with the back of your hand over your mouth. “We can watching something else if —”

“No, no, it’s okay,” he assured you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I said you could choose. I meant it.” He picked up a strawberry for himself and took a bite.

“All of this is amazing, Jim. Thank you so much.”

He smiled back at you, seemingly satisfied with himself. The hand not holding his flute grazed along your calf, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he swallowed what was in his mouth. “Look, I know you’re not one for Valentine's Day celebrations —”

“I never said that,” you answered.

“I heard you talking to Stephens about it last week,” he said. “And you’re right about one thing, we don’t need a special day to be romantic. We never have. But if there’s an occasion that gives me an excuse to pull out all the big guns, I’m gonna take it every single time. Because you deserve it.”

You smiled at him, taking a sip from your flute. “That’s fair. And you really do romance so well, it’d be a shame for those skills to go to waste.”

He winked at you. “My thoughts exactly. And I’m even willing to overlook that you’re a Valentine’s Scrooge —”

You gasped playfully, using your heels to slide yourself closer to him. “I am not a Scrooge.”

“You snarled at the Valentine’s decorations in the lobby of the precinct just yesterday,” he reminded you with a smirk. “And rolled your eyes at the guy selling flowers off of seventh the day before. Face it, honey, you hate Valentine’s Day.”

There was a brief moment of silence as you let his words linger in the air, relieved that he didn’t seem to be taking your aversion to the holiday personally.

“Okay, so I do, a little bit “ you conceded. “You know it’s just an excuse for corporate America to cash in. If you love someone you shouldn’t need capitalism to tell you when to be romantic.”

“That’s true, and I’ll admit that chocolates are always way overpriced around Valentine’s Day.”

“Yes! They know. They know people will buy them, so they mark up the prices and then sit in their gaudy mansions and laugh their asses off because not only have they just made bank off of the hopeless romantics and the saps, but also people praise them for it. And don’t even get me started on the damn teddy bears.”

“Okay, no. Please do not talk about the teddy bears,” he begged, picking up a strawberry and stuffing it between your lips. “I want us to enjoy the night together, and as much as I love watching you get all riled up, I do not want to listen to you rant all night.”

You bit into the strawberry and turned to slide your bottom between his legs, your back to his chest. “Just so you know, if I ever find myself enjoying Valentine’s Day, it’s because I’m spending it with you. Everybody else can eat a dick.”

He snorted into his champagne flute as he took a drink, trying not to spit it out. Swallowing, he pressed his nose against your hair.

“All this though,” you continued, looking around the room with a lazy smile. “All this is amazing.”

“You like it?” he mumbled into your ear.

“Mhm,” you hummed, snuggling back against him. “It’s making me think maybe Dance Moms isn’t exactly the right tone.”

“I didn’t wanna say anything, but yeah, Dance Moms — however fascinating — isn’t exactly the most romantic,” he answered. He set down his flute and gently began to massage your shoulders.

“You’re right,” you said, relaxing against his touch. “How about Breathless? You said you’ve never seen it.”

“Yeah, I could go for that.” He dropped a kiss on your shoulder as his arms wrapped around your waist. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jim,” you answered, turning your head to kiss his lips. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but you’re an amazing boyfriend. I’ve never been so happy.”

You felt his mustache twitch and just knew he was smiling.

“That makes two of us,” he whispered into your ear.

The two of you stayed in the bathtub a while longer, leisurely washing each other and taking small breaks to share a series of kisses every now and again. Eventually the water began to cool past the point of being comfortable, and Jim helped you out of the tub and into the shower to warm back up and rinse the bubbles off you. All the while, Jim doted on you with praises, kisses and sensual touches. Afterwards, he wrapped you in a fluffy robe that matched the one he’d had on when you came in.

He brought the bucket that held the bottle of champagne and both your flutes while you took your gun into the bedroom, setting it on the dresser. The two of you got dressed — you in a oversized t shirt and him in a pair of soft flannel pants — and went into the living room. Jim stopped off in the kitchen to reheat the takeout and bring it over to the couch before you played the movie.

After you finished eating, Jim excused himself to the bathroom while you picked up all the garbage from dinner, and poured you both some more champagne. When he came back out, he snuggled up with you on the couch, spooning you from behind and finished the movie with you.

All in all it had been one of the best Valentine’s Days you’d ever had, your feelings on the actual holiday notwithstanding. Though you had no idea that there was one surprise left.

When you walked into the bedroom later that night, there were rose petals and hershey kisses scattered on the bed, a full box of your favorite chocolates leaning against your pillow. He must have set it all up when he’d gone to the bathroom earlier. And even though you had already known it all along, you realized just how lucky you were to be with Jim Gordon.

[stressedlawsecretary]

Today's Focus

ft. the ad that has been all over my local news for two days now. Our quarterback is the new face of Gatorade.

09.19.24 - Out of touch Thursday has never been more accurate; in some ways it's a harder day to get through than Monday. I'm tired, the day drags; the only good thing is that I still have the food trucks to visit for another couple of weeks. After that I'm going to use Thursday as my day to go out for lunch instead of eating at my desk; I need an excuse to get up and move around gd it.

Work - SJC asked me yesterday to pull the casefiles for a case going to trial from the storage room, but I stored them at my desk in preparation for this so all I need to do is move those files to the library for her. Then I gotta send a cloud link out to the defendants in the case so they can access the videos the plaintiff is also reviewing. Other than that, I have whatever is asked of me, probably a mailing or an efile at some point today.

Background Noise - Back in the office means I'm back to binging YT. I got off like six hours on the DVR yesterday, along with 17 other YT videos. Again, not meeting the number from the day before, but this number includes a couple of streams over 2 hrs long, at least one stream over an hr long, and a few reaction videos that were nearly an hr long. So that's a good number for the type of content I'm getting off. I got halfway through another stream as well, but that one is seven hours long so 'halfway' means 4+ hrs in.

Study - Thursday is book day and if I do a couple of chapters of Twin Terror I will feel accomplished. There's a hell of a lot else I could also be reading but I'm not feeling very motivated today.

Though yesterday I did good on the 'visual study' front; of the six hrs I got off the DVR, the number included an hr of Jeopardy, and an episode each of my news programs.

Extras - Thursday means I have to take the garbage out of the house and to the curb; dinner is a classic comfort food - baked ziti. Then I settle in for some more Kamen Rider W and season 19 of Whose Line. I did the mini-essay already today, because I'm incredibly mad that the rhetoric surrounding Kamala Harris ignores the fact that she's a stepmom, and that kinda says a lot about how these ppl feel when it comes to non-traditional families including children without a biological connection. Consider it another piece in my series of how we as a society see children as property and not people. Idk if I'll write more today or do anything productively creative; I feel a little bit like arguing with TDIMDMs on my page. We'll see if I can reign my brain in.

[thescullyphile]

Trade

Saturday, January 25, 1997 10:30 AM Mulder knocked impatiently on Scully’s door, then considered feeling guilty for interrupting her morning off. He could almost feel her hesitance through the wall separating them, and had just settled his mind on feeling decidedly guilty when she opened the door. Oh. That was the reason for her hesitance. ‘Oxford’ was emblazoned on her chest. Scully was wearing his sweatshirt. Scully was wearing his sweatshirt. He could tell by the blush on her cheeks and the way she was standing, half hidden by the door, that she was acutely aware that the sweatshirt was his. “Just what is so important that it can’t wait until Monday, Mulder?” She asked, embarrassment making her exasperated. She let him in anyways, and Mulder waved a thick manila folder absently, trailing behind her into her apartment like a loyal puppy.

"Nice sweatshirt.” She could hear a mixture of teasing and appeasement in his voice.

“It’s laundry day.” Scully offered her explanation drily, a front for the chagrin of being caught, exposed for feeling more deeply than she thought she should. “I can see that,” Mulder smiled, equally charmed by her sentiments and her practicality. He plucked a pair of neatly folded jeans off of her couch, holding them to his hips like he was considering trying them on. They ended a few inches past his knees. “Remind me not to come to you if I need to borrow pants.” He teased her, amused, unexpectedly gladdened at the sight of her in his sweatshirt. Scully hummed in response, looking at him expectantly. Mulder realized that she was still waiting for a proper response as to why he was at her apartment on a Saturday morning. “I found a new case, one I think we really need to look into.” “You mean other than the one Skinner already has us on?” Mulder paused. Right. That case. It was distastefully straightforward, their work on it mostly comprised of a string of stakeouts in one of the shadier parts of town. Granted, he was starting to view it more positively. If it weren’t for those tedious stakeouts, he never would have been able to give his shivering partner the sweatshirt that had lain in the backseat of his car for that very purpose. If it weren’t for this case, Scully never would have been able to forget to give him the sweatshirt back at the end of their shift. Yes, the previously unremarkable case was growing in its charm the more he thought about it. Feeling suddenly benevolent, Mulder made to move towards the door, at peace with letting the new case rest until Monday in light of his discovery of the stakeouts’ newfound benefits. Scully, echoing his benevolence, took the casefile out of his hands with a shy, indulgent smile. “It can’t hurt to take a look, can it?” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Mulder left that evening with more clothes than he started, effectively ruining his hypothesis that the best days ended with the opposite. Scully’s indulgence had warmed to interest the more she read the case file. She invited him to stay for lunch. He fetched a pitcher for her off of the top shelf, standing too close to be professional, and he counted her freckles as he drank sweet tea. He watched as she fumbled trying to cuff her too-long sleeves, and inwardly beamed when she requested his help. A lifetime in her servitude, and he would be happy. It was hours later that Scully took off his sweatshirt, only changing and putting it in the wash with the rest of her laundry once she was sure he would stay for dinner too. Mulder picked up Italian from a restaurant down the street and convinced her to split a dessert with him. That night, Mulder lay on his couch, eyes closed in a meditation of Scully. He was wearing the sweatshirt now. It was unlikely, he thought, that he would ever wear her clothes the way she could wear his, but this was just as good. With every inhalation he breathed her in, almost worshipful in his reverence. Scully. His Scully.

[kaydeefalls]

Tell me about your first fandom. Ramble about everything.

OH WELL YOU ASKED.

I started watching the X-Files at age 11, which let me tell you was probably TOO YOUNG and also explains a lot about me as a person. I imprinted so hard on this show, guys, you don’t even know, all my middle school friends had to listen to me babble about it every week and my mother actually gave up and bumped my bedtime later by an hour so that I could stay up to watch it every Sunday night (because prior to that I would make her recount every episode IN DETAIL to me on our way to school Monday mornings). I wanted Mulder and Scully to kiss so bad. SO BAD. And eventually I found an AOL chatroom devoted to the show and discovered that many other people ALSO wanted them to kiss and had in fact written many stories about it. I loved writing and reading! This was totally my jam! Did I lie about my age to be allowed into the adult-only chatrooms and fic archives? You bet your ass. I mostly just skimmed over the sex scenes and learned to avoid the smut-centric fics for a few years there.

I still think that seasons 3-5 of the X-Files are some of the best television out there, and that show shaped so many of my favorite narrative tropes. Hurt/comfort! Wary allies to friends to lovers! Repressing the fuck out of your emotions! Hospital room confessions! Witty banter! Intelligent, equal partners! Overanalyzing every longing glance and fleeting touch! (Also, I maintain that pretty much every popular fanfic trope can be found in an XF episode somewhere, particularly in season 6 when the writers clearly got bored and just started fucking around for shits and giggles.)

I stuck with the show through the bitter end of its original run; I won’t touch the reboot because I don’t want my love of the fandom tainted for me. It’s harder for me to track down my old favorite fics now, because so many of the original websites are gone forever (we’re talking DECADES pre-AO3, here), but every now and then I get a hankering and go trawling for them. And man, though they tended toward the purple prose and somewhat florid romance, the standard for a long, plotty casefile of a fic was set so high, that’s something I still subconsciously seek out in every new fandom.

[robin-the-enby]

Confusing feelings

Pairing: Abe Sapien x OC

Summary: Abe meets a creature he's only ever read about.

Warnings: Probably very long with grammar mistakes (English is not my first language), a little bit of violence

A/N: I've been thinking about making this into a full book on my Wattpad account. I already have one English book there, so if you're a Moomins fan, go check it out, the name is TheDarkSide019 .

* * * * *

Fridays never really meant anything at BPRD, apart from it being the most chaotic day of the week. I mean, it's not like they didn't have to work at weekends. They did. And that sucked, as Liz said many times.

The last few weeks were pretty calm, nothing big was happening and there wasn't any danger that could wipe out humanity.

That meant Abe, Liz and Hellboy could have more free time.

Liz finally accepted herself as she is and her and Red's relationship has been just great. They were spending most of their free time with the other, doing all sorts of things and going on all sorts of little adventures at BPRD.

Abe didn't have anyone he would be this close with and he definitely didn't want to be a third wheel, even though he thought that if he asked to, Hellboy and Liz would let him hang out with them. Of course, there were some agents that came to the library, which used to be dr. Broom's office, to ask him all kinds of questions, some more interesting than others, but as the kind-hearted soul he was, he answered them all with patience. If he could help, why wouldn't he do so?

But when the agents left, he was all alone once again. Alone. That word tasted bitter on his tongue. However, this alone felt different than how he ever felt before. He was so lonely it was distracting. Soon he couldn't even read books with how distracted he was. So his days were spent in his tank, just quietly thinking about what was it that he lacked.

However he didn't lack anything, it was his soul that was weeping. Every time Abe saw Hellboy with Liz, his soul cried out a little. He was happy for them, he really was, but there was something about the sight that made him feel a wide range of emotions at once. He was confused.

If you're confused, you can just ask someone, he told himself. So he went to the first person he thought could help him understand his feelings a bit more. Liz.

"You're jealous Abe." was the answer he got. It was simple, but genuine and said with care. She wasn't mad in any way, but she didn't see a reason to beat around the bush.

But that's ridicoulus. Abe thought. "What do you mean jealous? I'm not jealous, in fact I am very happy for you two." Liz laughed at his confusion. "You're not jealous of me or Red, Abe. You're jealous of what we have. Maybe you don't realize it, but inside, you want it too. A relationship, I mean." He didn't look much wiser than before and she shook her head a little "Look. I'm not saying I'm right, but from what you've just told me it looks like it. It's normal, everybody sometimes feels like this when they've been single for a long time. Just think about it and if anything, you can talk to me." she reassured him. He nodded and slowly stood up. He only managed to mumble out a 'bye' before slipping through the door. He didn't even notice Hellboy who was coming to see Liz in her room. Red said hi, but he didn't recieve an answer, so deep in thought Abe was. Red turned his head to look at him, then shrugged and entered the room of his beloved girlfriend.

"What's up with Abe?" he then asked Liz and pointed at the door with his thumb like the said man was just behind it. "He's lonely." Liz explained. "What do you mean? He's always been kinda lonely." Red didn't understand. Sometimes Abe would rant to him how he felt a little lonely sometimes, like there was no one that could fully understand him. But he almost immediately after said that he didn't mind and was grateful for everything and everyone he had. "Yeah, but he's that kind of lonely that you were when I left." she said, trying to light up the mood a little. Although, they both knew it was true. "Poor man." Red shook his head and sighed.

Abe immediately went into his tank after arriving in the library. How could one be jealous of a non-materialistic thing? That's ridicoulus. Although, he had to admit, it would be nice to have someone you can hold, trust and rely on, to share all the nice and bad things with and who would hold, trust and rely on him and want to share all those things with him too. Oh, that's how.

The next day his mind was still overloaded with thoughts. In the morning Red stopped by and asked how he was doing and if he wanted to hang out with him and Liz later. Abe politely declined, saying he needs to sort some things out. In my head. he added, but not out loud.

Unknown to him or the other two, who were a little worried about him, things were going to get exciting in just a moment.

Manning recieved a newspaper with a very strange title right on homepage. He was told by the agent who brought the thing, that the local police doesn't know what to do anymore. It was time to call the special agents.

Abe was forcefully pulled out from his thoughts by the library door opening. In came Manning with a few other agents, Liz and Hellboy trailling behind them. When Abe looked at their joined hands, his soul cried out yet again, but now he knew why. It was refreshing and frustrating at the same time, which left him as he was the days prior. Confused.

"What's so important that you have to pull us away from our day off?" Red asked and Manning decided to ignore him, because getting mad would not get him anywhere. "We've recieved an anonymus tip about paranormal activity going on in Scotland. Look at this." he handed Hellboy the newspaper. Red took it from him and looked at the homepage. There, in bold, capital letters was a title: TWO MEN DEAD AT A LOCAL LAKE. ONLY REMAINS FOUND ARE HEARTS AND LIVERS. "That's nice." Red commented. Then he came over to Abe's tank, where Abe was practically glued to the front glass wall, to show it to him. He watched as Abe's eyes scanned the title "What do you think it is pal?"

Abe thought for a while, blinking owlishly once or thrice. Just as they thought he maybe wasn't paying attention, Abe turned to look at them "I don't know. There are lots and lots of water creatures, but I can't recall a single one that doesn't eat a part of their victim."

His interest has been piqued. "A new creature perhaps?" Liz piped up, her gate set on the paper laying now on one of the tables. Manning sighed an annoyed sigh "Great." "Or a one we don't have much information about." Abe said. "Either way, I want you to catch it and bring it back for studying. The details will be given to you later today." "So wait, we're actually going to Scotland?" Liz asked excitedly. "You bet'cha babe." Hellboy smirked and wrapped one arm around her waist.

Abe was excited. Finally something distracted him from his thoughts. Try as he might, he couldn't figure out what creature could've caused this. He tried to narrow it to water beasts from The brittish islands, but that didn't really help, there were still too many options and too little information.

Another thing he didn't really like was how Manning said studying. Oh he was going to keep an eye on that. There will be no harmful experiments on his watch. No cutting, probing, chemical testing, nothing. That just wasn't right and even if he believed Manning was a good man, he knew how he treated those of different species.

They gave the trio all known information. The lake was near a small town that was build for people who worked in a nearby ink factory. It was that type of town where everyone knew each other.

They all left on Sunday evening and by Monday morning they were already there. It was necessary, all citizens will be at work or at school so there will be a near zero percent chance of someone seeing the trio.

The sky was grey as the water that reflected it, gentle breeze making small waves on the water surface. The lake was surrounded by reeds that swayed ever so slightly and rustled quietly. There were a few spots where the reeds had been cut, probably for people who wanted to fish. Strange thing was that there weren't any animals, usually this place would be full of water birds and insects, but here everything seemed dead. It was a little depressing.

Hushed voices of Liz and Hellboy could be heard with the rustling. Liz liked the idea of getting out of BPRD from the beggining and when they arrived, she fell in love with the place. Abe had to admit, the scenery all around them was beautiful. But he could feel that something wasn't right here.

A young agent called out to them to get their attention. He beckoned them over to where he was standing. They came to one of the fishing spots where remains of footsteps were highlighted by the police. "You got anything for us?" Hellboy asked. The agent nervously gulped "Well, you'll need to know what happened, before you start investigating." he said with a shaky voice. "And you know that?" asked Liz. The agent opened the casefile, which wasn't really thick "Well, two victims went to an inn after work. They were fairly tipsy, but didn't come in a vehicle, so the innkeaper let them go. And now this is where it gets interesting. The footsteps lead straight into the water, like they did it from their own will. Bodies were never found, the only remains are their hearts and livers which were thrown in the reeds over there." he pointed to the place where they had been found.

It wasn't much, but at least it was something new. "Thank you for your help." Abe thanked the young man. He then scurried off somewhere without saying anything.

There wasn't really anything to do now, Abe still didn't have enough information to figure out what exactly they were dealing with here. They decided it would be best to look around and hopefully find something new.

"Do we know where this thing could be?" Liz asked. "Well, because the victims were lured into the lake, I think it's safe to assume it lives there." Abe explained, even though he thought she could have figured that out on her own. "Well, if we won't find anything usefull, you're going to have to dive down there." Hellboy said and gestured to the lake with his head. Abe sighed "I know." Although he was excited, they still didn't know anything and he wouldn't like to go there unprepared.

As they were walking, Abe pointed out the lack of animals at this place. "Well, they could be just scared from all the people suddenly showing up." Liz shrugged.

Soon they were on the opposite side of the lake and nothing strange had happened so far. They could see meadows upon meadows everywhere and even those looked empty. There wasn't anything alive, only a horse on one of the meadows. Wait, a horse??

Liz softly gasped "Look, a horse!" and immediately started to go towards it. Red and Abe looked at each other uncertainly, not knowing if it was safe, but they trailed behind her nonetheless. What could a horse possibly do?

The closer they got to it, the worse feeling settled in Abe's gut. Liz was already standing next to it, petting it softly.

It was beautiful. But something felt off. It's fur was white like fresh snow and clean, even though it was standing on a meadow with no fence around it. How was it so clean when it probably didn't belong to anyone? If Abe could frown, he would. The horse was peacfully munching on the grass, until Liz touched it. It lifted it's head up, showing them the deepest dark blue eyes that they've ever seen. They looked almost...hypnotizing.

"Do you think it'd let me ride it?" Liz wondered. She was looking into the horses eyes and her voice sounded quiet and soft, like she was daydreaming. Abe found it strange for the girl to be so enamoured by a simple horse, but it seemed he was the only one.

Hellboy picked up his girlfriend and set her gently on the horses back. She sat there for a while, before trying to run her hands through its mane.

It was as white as the rest of its body, without any knots. "Somebody has gone for a swim, eh?" Liz cooed at the animal. And aparently wet too.

Abe stared at the horse, deep in thought. It didn't belong to anybody, it was beautiful and enchanting. It just encouraged you to ride it. Abe looked at its mane, small droplets still dripping down. If it went into the lake, it must have been before we got here. Wouldn't it be dry now?

It was just encouraging you to ride it. Encouraging....encouraging...luring...

And then it clicked.

"Liz, you need to get down. Now." Abe said, urgency evident in his voice. Hellboy registered it before Liz, who seemed in some sort of dreamy trance, sensing the tone he immediately felt unnerved and went to retrieve his girl.

"Give me your hand babe." he said gently. Liz blinked, suddenly confused. It took her a few seconds to process what did he want her to do, but when she was going to lift her hand, she realized she was stuck.

"Red." she said, her voice quiet "I can't take my hads off it." Hellboy looked confused "What do you mean you can't-"

It happened so suddenly. By now everyone figured that the cteature wasn't a regular horse and could in fact understand everything that had been said. Like a lightning from a clear sky it took off in a fascinating speed. Hellboy cried out his loves name while Abe's breath has been stolen. He finally understood what was going on and Liz was in deep trouble.

At this point both of them were running after the two. But they could never match the speed of the beast. Liz knew she had to do something when she saw where the creature was headed. She tried to concentrate on increasing the heat inside of her, until she burst into blue flames.

The creature let out a pained screech full of agony and fear and if it wasn't going in an unhuman speed before, it sure was now. Abe would later tell that it sounded nothing like a sound horses make. It resembled a human scream, but then times more terrifying.

All the agents looked from their work when they heard the commotion. And all of them jumped to their feet when a horse, that was on fire, ran past and straight into the water.

Liz could feel the water detaching her body from the beast. Even though she couldn't feel it anywhere around her, she still kept herself hot enough to boil it slightly.

Then she felt something grab her arm and pull her upwards. Thinking it was the beast she thrashed as much as she could, but when they broke to the surface and she could hear her boyfriend's shouts to try and calm her down, she stilled almost immediately.

Abe was surprised to see them both covered in some sort of black goo when they got out of the water. He pointed it out and told them it would be best to clean up. They didn't have anything against it and left him alone.

The next twenty minutes were chaotic. Agents ran all around the place, some tending to Liz, some questioning Abe and Red, some taking samples from the weird water and some looking for the Kelpie.

"A Kelpie? What's that?" Hellboy asked. "Well, it is a water creature living mostly in Scotland and Ireland. Because it's so far away from BPRD, we don't know much about it. That's why I couldn't figure it out for so long. However, what we do know is that in water it takes shape of a horse with a finn and on land of a beautiful horse or human." Hellboy grumbled "Well, I'm gonna kill it after they're done getting the information." if it was him it would go after, he wouldn't be surprised. But it dared lay a hoove on his Liz and that's a sin he can't forgive.

About thirty minutes later the trio joined the agents in looking for the Kelpie. They had to split up, which left Abe alone. Not that it was dangerous anymore, the Kelpie would be hurt. Abe was afraid it would die before he'd get his information and he scolded himself for feeling this way.

A few meters from him the reeds rustled and something dragging on the ground could be heard. That must be it. Abe thought. He stealthily crept to the spot and peeked between the reeds. And there it was.

It was a woman. She layed on her side, her back facing Abe. She was naked and covered in the substance from the water. Her back was badly burnt and she sounded exhausted, only shallow breaths and quiet noises of pain leaving her mouth.

He slowly came out of his hiding spot as to not scare her too much, but she was too weak to move. He came around her and saw her face. Without all the goo she'd be very beautiful. He didn't know if it'd be apropriate to calm her, so he just looked at her reasuringly, at least he tried to do so, and called to the nearby agents.

He felt strangely calm knowing the Kelpie was safe with the agents. He once again, couldn't understand his feelings. At least he could go home now.

* * * * *

Please leave a like and/or a comment if you want part two ;)

[cauldronoflove]

do you have dream fics? like, i guess, fic ideas you want to write sometime in the future, and/or fic ideas that you would love to write but don't have time for! ty!

oh absolutely! i'd say i have two top contenders, one is an x files casefile fic tht i started writing ages ago and just havent had the time to finish bc itd be a larger undertaking but basically scully and mulder are working a case where multiple brides have shown up dead on their wedding day in a small town in connecticut. it's one part ghosts, one part scully being snarky, another part mulder dealing with Feelings, and also a heavy dose of inspiration on part of that old "marry on monday for health, tuesday for wealth..." saying.

the other is a very long seaborn for president fic tht bounces around like three different timelines and is largely a study on sam's friendships and his convictions and like all kinds of in depth, meandering things tht i would love to write and have written a collective 3k of random scenes for but just. do not have it in me to write rn or in the foreseeable future. maybe one day though! i have one scene written out thts cj & sam tht i come back to and reread every now and then just to remind myself why i love this idea so much

[beepbopboyathon]

HC: any of your faves + what they stream on Twitch/YouTube (modern!)

What the main six like to stream/ watch

(I love modern au so much)

Asra

His regular youtube recommendations are the side of youtube that you end up in at 3am and reptile videos

This is a prime example of what he likes to watch 

For background noise, he likes to turn on true crime podcasts where the hosts have a lot of character.

One of his favorite podcasts is The Last Podcast on the Left

 On youtube, he also likes Stephanie Soo

His favorite reptile YouTuber is Go Herping, specifically the unboxing videos

Nadia

She likes informational and inspiring content

Nadia has watched almost every youtube video on Nail Career Education

She also frequently follows along with Bob Ross tutorials (She and Muriel have painting parties with his tutorials)

She adores Nathaniel Drew and first found him through his Learning Italian in 7 Days video.

She likes to watch cooking videos and has a whole box of recipes that she wants to try.

Nadia uses Yoga with Adriene to relax after a stressful day.

Julian

Lots of true crime and mystery

He likes the Medical Mysteries and Casefile podcasts on Spotify and he uses Last Podcast on the Left to help him stay awake when he pulls an all-nighter

He loves Nexpo type videos too

Julian has an interest in psychology so he will sometimes watch the Crash Course psychology lessons

He likes background sounds and he uses Creepypastas or R/LetsNotMeet readings but he rarely pays much attention to the actual stories.

He adores Chubbyemu videos

Portia

Drama channels and sims gameplays

Her background channel of choice is The Right Opinion

She watched the 100 baby challenge on the Buzzfeed Multiplayer

Bailey Sarian’s Mystery and Makeup Mondays is one of her favorite series

She probably has her own youtube channel tbh, I feel like she has all the information on beauty community drama before anyone else

She also watches strange aeons because she thinks that Teya’s very pretty and funny

Muriel

Very peaceful and relaxing content

Whenever he’s sad he watches this to make himself laugh 

Speedpaints put him to sleep and it really annoys him when he’s trying to watch them, his favorite one to try and watch is Creativestation

He is Bob Ross’s biggest fan tbh

He once watched an hour long video of a man carving a spoon out of a block of wood.

Studio Ghibli movies off sketchy websites is his favorite form of entertainment

Jenna Marbles is also very good

Lucio

Beauty vloggers, drama channels and dance routines 

Before he buys any skincare he watches several reviews of it

He’ll watch dance routines then criticize them and decide he could do better

Also really likes Gordon Ramsey

He likes closet tours especially with people who have a unique style

Ready to Glare is his favorite drama channel.

If yall have any headcanons you want to send (Especially modern au) i’m still taking requests :)

[randomfoggytiger]

I started watching X-Files a couple of months ago and finally finished the whole show, plus the movies and revival. Jesus. I started looking at fanfic but am totally intimidated by HOW MUCH OF IT there is. Like. 30 years worth of it? Where do I even start? Do I read old stuff or new stuff? Are there any authors that have been writing since the 90’s? Who’s stuff should I be reading? What should I be reading? There are so many different kinds! (Okay, but not fluff, because The Ick.) (and only the shippy stuff because I am not a monster.) Where does one even start in this fandom?

Thanks for coming here, Anon-- I'll do my best~. ;)))

TLDR: If you want to read the classics-- the multi-chapter beasts hailed across The X-Files fandom-- I'd go to @lilydalexf's page and sort through her pinned Masterpost of recs; if you want my personal favorites, I've got my own complied Masterlist pinned, as well. If you want author suggestions, I listed a few below (but not all-- even of my personal favorites.) Older fics have a more "walled-off" approach to Scully and an edgier, distant approach to Mulder; newer fics have a more open approach to their exchange and dynamic. I prefer the latter, but that's likely because I was able to watch the show as a whole rather than episode by episode with a lot of guesswork in-between.

It's hard to pinpoint where to recommend you since I don't know your preferences; but here's a very loose attempt to do so:

I'm more of a short fic reader, but I'd recommend @melforbes, @slippinmickeys, @cecilysass, and @wexleresque for long chapters; @teethnbone, @leiascully, @aloysiavirgata, @enigmaticdrblockhead, @dreamingofscully, and @sarie-fairy for "atmospheric" writing; @baronessblixen, @welsharcher, @agent-troi, @television-overload, @invidiosa, @swinging-stars-from-satellites, @thescullyphile, @msrafterdark, and @edierone for well-balanced fluff/angst/humor/comfort fic/etc.; @o6666666, @ghostbustermelanieking, @mappingthexfiles/Apostrophic, and Lapsed_Scholar for their wonderful shorts (but especially Lapsed's Requiem AU compilations); @settle-down-frohike, @suitablyaggrieved, @amplifyme, @wtfmulder, @freckleslikestars, @lyndsaybones, @numinousmysteries, and Jenna Tooms/misslucyjane for their focus on Mulder and Scully as a "mature"-- for lack of a better word-- couple (no matter when their fics are set); @xxsksxxx and @writingwell write long-chaptered casefiles (my writingwell fic recs here might help?-- sorry for the codes, I was rushing out those notes); and if you want the authors everyone recommends, then @mashnotesofthemythopoeic/Penumbra (Masterlist) and prufrock’s love/plenilune (@lilydalexf links/descriptions here) are two of the many that fit the bill.

Other fic recs you might be interested in: @cecilysass's write more of these and Milagro recs, @enigmaticxbee mytharc and Scully family recs, @pennyserenade's reading recs, @two-microscopes shorter fic rec list, @nachosncheezies's slightly psychic Scully recs (describes three of the big x-files fics), etc. You want beautifully short poeticesque ficlets written and recced by @leiascully? Boom. You want Deadalive fic reccs? Kachow. You want opinions from the OGs? The aforementioned aloysiavirgata, amplifyme, baronessblixen, leiascully, suitablyaggrieved, cecilysass, settle-down-frohike, dreamingofscully, msrafterdark, as well as @iconicscullyoutfits and @myassbrokethefall (who write amazing meta, btw.)

Are you interested in AUs that write in Gillian Anderson's pregnancy? That have a storyline sans baby all together? That stick to canon all the way through the Revival? That stick to canon mostly, except for a bit of branching off here and there? Multiple Monday fics? Post Pine Bluff Variant processing? Mulder or Scully PTSD or panic attacks or hurt comfort? The many different flavors of Mulder's abduction or return? Casefiles (admittedly I stink at those)? My own fics (also in my pinned masterpost)? An author whose style you're interested in but would like a description of their work before making a long-term commitment? Lemme know~! :DDDD

Gotta run! Hope you like! (And sorry for any spelling errors~.)

[kateyes224]

Been MIA from tumblr recently (1 year). What’s good in the x-files fandom?

NOTTA DAMN, SWEET ANON.

Except for my sweetheart @lepus-arcticus writing the most amazing casefile since forEVER (it's called Omens, she's crushing it and killing us softly every Monday and Thursday evening with new chapters) and some amazing new stuff from @leiascully and @scullywolf and @baronessblixen for Fictober, there's not a lot going on fandom-wise! But with GA currently filming The Crown S4 and about to release S2 of Sex Education, and David working on a third album (God help us) and a fourth novel with likely touring the country therefrom, things may pick up again soon!

Also I hear tell of a S12 being written by @slippinmickeys and others but have not yet checked it out!

[stressedlawsecretary]

Today's Focus

08.13.24 - It's no longer Monday at least. I don't know man I'm tired and don't want to be here. Maybe going to work will be easier in the winter but right now I want to take another staycation.

Work - Okay well. I have to make redwelds for two of the three new casefiles, but at least they're all in NYM. SJC emailed me yesterday asking for a ToC & ToA on a motion, due midday today so I have to finish what I started there. Plus, I'm in office so any mailings/printings I'm asked for.

Background Noise - In the office so still binging YT and feeling okay about it. I still did like 16 videos yesterday, a couple of which were over an hr and one of them was like 4 hrs long. We're getting there.

Study - Yeah I'm not doing as much of that as I would be ordinarily; in part because of the packing needing to be done for the reno. Since I self-study anyway, this is fine I'll just start back up again when the renovations are done and I can make my space my own again.

I am reading here and there - articles I stumble on, stuff open on my phone/tablet, some of the temporary saved stuff I can read quick - I'm just not focusing on things the way I generally do.

Extras - Tuesday and I didn't do chores last week so this week it's cleaning the bathroom fixtures mostly - sink, toilet, and tub. I'm making Hamburger Helper for dinner, with some kind of salad probably, and then I'll settle in to color and watch Shinkenger.

[txf-fic-chicks-blog]

Casefile Monday

To say just about anything about tonight’s rec would probably be to say too much. At just shy of 800 words, it’s about as quick a casefile as you can get away with reading in just a minute or two. It stays with you, though, this story, as you find yourself seeing through the eyes of the killer.

It’s from a writer we’re not super familiar with, but if tonight’s rec is any indication, you’ll probably be reading more of this author if we can help it. 

Title:  Legerdemain

Author: afg

Rating: PG-13

Length: 1K/700+ Words

Synopsis:   leg·er·de·main/ˈlejərdəˌmān/noun skillful use of one's hands when performing conjuring tricks

Spoilers:  None

Trigger Warnings:  None we can think of

[violetganache42]

Heron looks SO FUCKING OFFENDED in this frame and I absolutely love it! 🤣